Review Summary: A bold but ultimately incoherent effort.
Tiger Flowers’ emergence and alleged maturation has been received with an abundance of fervor, practically bordering on delirium; it is absurd just how talked-about this band has become – and in such a short space of time, no less. Naturally, this piqued both my attention and skepticism. “They can’t be all that, can they?” I continually asked myself. And so, in light of this, reviewing Dead Hymns presented itself as a foregone conclusion.
As practically preordained by the term ‘mathcore’, the most common label by which this band is understood, the guitar-work is dense and frenetic to the point of claustrophobia; to speak of the vocalist’s ability is to evoke a gravelly bark capable of stripping paint – or marble, for that matter; and from rolling bass-lines to meaty, half-tempo trudging, the rhythmic section has been lauded for their precision and creativity. The description offered above, though comparatively modest with most I’ve seen, echoes an increasingly common refrain amongst extreme music aficionados, local or otherwise – one which I struggle to completely accept.
Apart from being the standard practice, assessing Dead Hymn’s opener, ‘Batesian Mimicry’, provides some valuable insights: it not only sets a structural and stylistic precedent for the songs to follow, but affords the listener a comprehensive characterisation of their outwardly indigestible approach. In other words, the track is Tiger Flowers in a nutshell, for better or worse.
Regarding the latter, Tiger Flowers are anything but one-dimensional, having a firm grasp of their many influences. Befitting any late-90s mathcore outfit worth its weight in noise – Botch and Coalesce race to mind – the track begins with an isolated, triplet-feel riff. It doesn’t linger long, however; the lick is swiftly relegated to the distant background while the remaining members proceed to make themselves intimately known, banishing any breathing space there was to speak of. The assault, fleeting though it may be, is certainly gripping, and the lull which soon follows, though abruptly placed, provides vocalist Jess Madre enough time to discharge a manic shriek, signifying that the song will shortly resume its original course – in utter derangement, obviously.
‘Batesian Mimicry’, much to my delight, shifts gears dramatically thereafter. Instead of tottering along the same tedious and predictable lines, the track makes a drastic departure in genre: dispensing with razor-sharp riffs and breakdowns for a brilliant and uplifting variation of the opening riff, the track strays directly into Wave territory a la Touché Amoré, La Dispute, and the like. I admit it – I did not see that coming. But with that stroke of brilliance far behind, the track, along with the remaining twenty-seven minutes of the album, resolves to mediocrity.
The tracks ‘Century Blues’ and ‘Suicide Giants’, following directly from ‘Batesian Mimicry’, tread all-too-familiar territory, absent of any further feature that might noticeably set it apart from the aforementioned track. Similarly, as if that wasn’t enough to send my mediocrity meter redlining, the track ‘The Road’ features, and rarely parts with, a riff that is practically indistinguishable from the awkward opening notes of ‘Batesian Mimicry’. Don’t get me wrong: this album does contain the odd enjoyable moment, however, any one band in their sprawling list of influences has probably done it better. If I had to identify a ‘favourite’ – yes, let’s go with that – ‘Cruisin’ Till The Wheels Fall Off’ would probably be it; but the length of the track, just failing to meet the minute-mark, is probably a weighty contributing factor.
In addition to these obvious pitfalls, the production on Dead Hymns doesn’t do it any favours, hampering any instrumental forcefulness that might see it redeemed in some measure. Whilst everything is audible – the recording seems to have gone smoothly enough – nearly every track becomes an indiscernible gyre at its peak, laden with frequencies high and agonising – which, given the inherent austerity of mathcore, forbids the ear from comfortably following the strong-willed, evasive instrumentation.
Dead Hymns is a bold but ultimately incoherent effort, plagued with an abundance of ills that range from tinnitus-inducing production to varied, albeit mediocre songwriting. I trust this won’t be the last I’ll hear of Tiger Flowers, as, for all its apparent difficulties, Dead Hymns is flecked with promise – even if spotting it requires a near herculean effort of its listeners.
